


Keep (fairly) Calm and Carry On

by ningloreth



Series: Tinker the House-elf [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 08:26:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12813561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ningloreth/pseuds/ningloreth
Summary: Whilst Draco and Hermione try to snatch some quality time, their son has plans of his own. Luckily, Tinker the house-elf is (fairly) well prepared for (almost) anything.





	Keep (fairly) Calm and Carry On

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the mods for organising this lovely fest again, and to whoever nominated me to take part this year :-)
> 
> The prompt was _tinsel_ , though Tinker had bigger ideas.

**Christmas Eve**

“Mmmm," said Hermione, "I can't remember the last time we did this...” She smiled as her husband, gathering her in his muscular arms, brushed his lips across the back of her neck—and pressed his very eager erection against her bottom.

“I'm just”— _kiss_ —“taking advantage of your son's”— _kiss_ —“absence”— _kiss_ —“from our bed,” said Draco.

“Tell me why,” said Hermione, twisting in his arms until he allowed her to turn and face him, “he's always _your_ son when he's teaching himself to read or doing some precocious bit of magic, but _my_ son when he's annoying you?”

“Because his talent for causing mayhem comes from your side of the family, obviously, ” Draco replied. “Goes without saying.”

“Oh, yes; goes without saying!” Hermione had no idea why she found her husband's infinite capacity for self-deception so adorable. She lay back, and let him continue with his seduction... until a worrying thought occurred to her, and she pulled away. “What if he comes in whilst we're—you know?”

“He won't. I've sealed the door.”

“ _Draco!_ ”

“Scorpius is fine. He's fast asleep.”

“Scorpio, sleeping?” said Hermione, doubtfully.

“Yes, I checked,” Draco insisted. “I tiptoed in there and had a quick peep. He's a little mound of angelic slumber.”

“But what if he...” Hermione's eyes narrowed. “Tell me you didn't cast a Slumber Charm!”

“I didn't cast a Slumber Charm.”

“I meant,” said Hermione, having fallen for that particular evasion tactic before, “' _Did_ you cast a slumber charm on our _son_ , Draco?'” She backed up the question with a little light Legilimency, but her husband, knowing _her_ just as well as she knew _him_ , blocked it, with a wicked smile.

“ _No_ ,” he said, “I didn't.” Then, “Go on, Granger. It'll only take five minutes.”

“Well that's romantic,” said Hermione.

“Romance'll have to wait till your son's old enough to go off to Hogwarts,” Draco replied, practically. “What I'm offering you now is sex—a quickie. _Bu-ut_ ”—he raised an eyebrow—“I bet I can still make you scream like a Chinese Fireball.”

“Then you'd better cast a Muffling Charm,” said Hermione, grinning in spite of herself. “And five Galleons says you can't make me scream in five minutes, mister.”

…

 _The door to Master Scorpius Malfoy's bedroom was slightly_ ajar _._

_Tinker the house-elf pushed it open, and peered inside. Master Scorpius Malfoy appeared to be curled up in bed, fast asleep and breathing softly..._

_Lips pursed, Tinker considered the scene: something was definitely wrong._

_For one thing, the strange ceramic pig with the hole in its back, which Master Scorpius Malfoy's grandparents, Mr and Mrs Granger, had given Master Scorpius Malfoy for his third birthday, was lying on the floor._

_In pieces._

_On tip-toe, Tinker crept up to the bed, and gently lifted the bedclothes..._

_Someone—and Tinker always tried to avoid jumping to hasty conclusions in these situations—had arranged a pile of soft toys in the rough shape of a body, and cast a couple of charms on one of the teddies so that the bear appeared to be breathing._

_The effect was quite convincing._

_Though very disturbing._

_Lips still pursed, Tinker calmly Apparated to his own bedroom to collect his Bag of Useful Things._

_..._

_It didn't take Tinker long to pick up the trail: beside Master Scorpius Malfoy's bedroom door, there was a little smudge..._

_Tinker opened his Bag of Useful Things, took out a small pot of coloured powder, which had once belonged to Mrs Draco, and applied it with a big brush obtained from the same source._

_Just as Tinker had suspected, the smudge was now clearly revealed as one of Master Scorpius Malfoy's jammy hand prints..._

_Hmm._

_On the stairs, Tinker found a randomly-bitten piece of bread, lying sticky-side down on the carpet..._

_Passing the portraits in the corridor, Tinker noted that several ancient Malfoys had gone into hiding..._

_Suddenly, Tinker knew exactly where the trail was leading!_

_“Oh, no, no, no,” he cried, breaking into a run, “no, no, no, Master...”_

_He tore into the Small Sitting Room and skidded to a halt, looking this way and that—“...Scorpius Malfoy...? ”—but his tiny master was nowhere to be seen._

…

“Oh, dear God,” said Hermione, grasping her husband's head, “this isn't a quickie.”

She wasn't surprised when Draco didn't reply; she knew his mouth was fully occupied.

…

_“No, no, no...” Tinker looked round the room. “No, no”—he took a quick breath—“no. No, no—oh, NO!”_

_There were small, sooty footprints in the fireplace!_

_Tinker opened his Bag of Useful Things and, almost blaming Mrs Draco for reading Master Scorpius Malfoy that book about the chimney sweep, took out a hand mirror, which had once belonged to Mrs Lucius Malfoy, and which Tinker had carefully adapted, extended the handle, fed it into the fireplace and, turning it this way and that, checked the chimney._

_No sign of Master Scorpius Malfoy!_

_Tinker sat back on his heels and, after taking a few breaths—now that he seemed able to breathe again—he carefully put the mirror away. The Small Sitting Room looked quite tidy but that, in Tinker's experience, was when things were most likely to take a sudden turn for the worse._

_At least the Christmas Tree was still—_

_Oh, no!_

_Tinker's heart sank._

_Beneath the tree, the tin of Muggle sweeties sent by Master Scorpius Malfoy's grandparents, Mr and Mrs Granger, lay open and, beside it, a pile of brightly coloured wrappers was catching the morning light._

_Tinker was just wondering how bad_ that _was likely to prove—because, according to Mrs Draco, something in Muggle sweeties always made Master Scorpius Malfoy high-per-active—when he noticed a scrap of wrapping paper beneath the sofa._

_His heart sinking even further, Tinker clicked his fingers._

_Bits of torn paper sailed out from under the coffee table and from behind a chair, and reassembled themselves, in mid-air, into a long, narrow, and—unfortunately—empty parcel, but Tinker knew exactly what should have been inside, because it had been Tinker's job to keep Mrs Draco and Master Scorpius Malfoy occupied whilst Mister Draco smuggled it into Malfoy Manor, wrapped it, and hid it beneath the Christmas Tree._

_At the time, Tinker had—privately—thought that giving Master Scorpius Malfoy a miniature, custom-made Firebolt Excelsior for Christmas was just_ asking _for trouble and—even more privately—he'd been sure that, when Mrs Draco found out, she was going to—_

_Oh, no! The window was open!_

_Tinker pulled a Magnifying Glass from his Bag of Useful Things and, after carefully examining the entire area, sighed._

_There could only be one explanation for the faint traces of jam and soot on the stonework..._

…

Writhing upon the bed, great fistfuls of bed sheet in her hands, Hermione was almost in heaven. 

“Please, Draco,” she sobbed. “I need your cock inside me...”

Her husband raised his head and, for a moment or two, the promise in his smile made up for the sudden pause in the proceedings.

…

_“Mattyyyyyyyyyyyy,” cried Tinker, as he opened the broom cupboard door._

_Matty appeared behind him with a little_ pop _._

 _“Matty and Meddle must do breakfast,” said Tinker. “But wait until Mrs Draco calls—I think Mister Draco and Mrs Draco is_ busy _.”_

 _Tinker lifted a long, wooden box down from the top shelf and opened it. Mister Draco's beloved Firebolt Excelsior lay impatiently in its velvet nest; Tinker could almost_ see _it vibrating with magic. He reached for it—_

_“What will Tinker be doing?” asked Matty._

_“Tinker,” Tinker began, then decided that, given Master Scorpius Malfoy's involvement, it was probably best to keep his Plan to himself: “Tinker has another important job to do. For Mrs Draco.”_

_Tinker did not like brooms and brooms did not like Tinker. (In fact, Tinker suspected that brooms could tell they made Tinker nervous). Most brooms refused to fly for Tinker. But Tinker was counting on Mister Draco's broom seeing him as a CHALLENGE._

 _Tinker grabbed Mister Draco's broom, and held it tight._

_..._

_Minutes later—having managed to juggle on his duffel coat, his scarf, and his best hat, all one-handed, having added an additional Useful Thing to his Bag of Useful Things (because you never knew when a Useful Thing like that would be usef—would come in handy), and having attached the bag to Mister Draco's Firebolt with an extra-strong Sticking Charm—he climbed onto the broom and—“Up!”—shot out of the window._

_Clinging on for dear life, his ears—like his scarf—streaming out behind him in the misty air, Tinker pitched and rolled and yawed across the gardens in search of Master Scorpius Malfoy._

…

“ _Ah, a_ —oh! Oh, Draco, did you hear a knock?” 

Switching instantly from lover to mother, Hermione wriggled beneath her husband until she could see the connecting door to Scorpius's bedroom.

“If he wanted to come in,” said Draco, gently holding her still, “he'd be hammering on the door—he's got _phenomenal_ little fists—”

“Let me just check—”

“—and when that failed, he'd start throwing magic at it—and you'd never miss that.”

Hermione tried to make herself believe their son would be so predictable.

She was very proud of Scorpius's precocity, and she'd never had the heart to stop him experimenting with his magic, even though he seemed to be growing more powerful every day. 

As her husband leaned in and began to kiss her—thoroughly, insistently—she was wondering if it might be time to start teaching their son some control, and when Draco started to move inside her, it did briefly occur to her that Scorpius might somehow have sneaked out of his bedroom and be getting up to some mischief, but when Draco began to thrust, in that hard, masterful rhythm he knew she loved, all further thought simply left her head. 

…

_It took only a matter of moments for Tinker to be sure that Master Scorpius Malfoy was no longer in the grounds of Malfoy Manor, to find out where his tiny master had crossed the wards, and to set off in hot pursuit._

_It took a great deal longer, and a lot of SHOUTING—clinging—begging—hanging—keeping calm—climbing—falling—hanging upside-down—threatening with _FIRE _—climbing again—and fashioning (with some frantic magic) a harness from his long, woollen scarf—for Tinker to get the Firebolt Excelsior under some sort of control._

_-ish._

_By then, Tinker was at his destination._

_Gratefully, Tinker fell to the ground and, sneakily trapping the Firebolt in a public broom rack, he re-transfigured his scarf into a broom-lock, and added an Anti-thievery Charm_ and _a Leaden Charm for extra security._

_Then Tinker smoothed his duffel coat and straightened his hat, took up his Bag of Useful Things, and set off to find Master Scorpius Malfoy._

…

“Five Galleons,” said Draco, with a cocky smile. He rolled onto his side and held out a hand.

“ _Please_ ,” said Hermione.

Draco raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Five Galleons, _please_ ,” she said. “No wonder our son has no manners. And that took you a lot longer than five minutes.”

“Technically,” said Draco, “it's the first scream that counts, and that occurred well within five minutes.” 

Hermione was forced to concede defeat. “D'you really expect me to pay you _now_?”

“I never let anyone drag their feet on a gambling debt, Granger.”

“Hmm,” said Hermione, tracing a teasing fingertip round one of his nipples, “how about double or quits?”

…

_The village of Little Mereworth was brimming with Christmas Spirit._

_The weather elsewhere had been damp but, here, the streets were glistening with frost; it dusted the carved stonework, it traced the curly ironwork of the street lamps, it iced the dark leaves and the red and gold berries of the evergreens._

_With all the colourful decorations, and the festoons of fairy lights glimmering in the frosty air, Tinker thought that Little Mereworth looked very pretty._

_He took a moment to get his bearings._

_On either side of the Main Street, the shops were filled with Christmas fare: there were piles of fruit and vegetables and wreaths of holly in the greengrocer's; there were festive cakes and mince pies in the baker's; there were toys, games and fiendish-looking puzzles in the toy shop; there were scented soaps and bubble potions in the apothecary's; there were some very Useful-looking Things in the Antiques shop; and..._

_And Tinker didn't look in the butcher's._

_In the Market Square, wooden stalls were selling more fruit, more cakes, more toys, more potions... Little Mereworth was so busy, and Tinker was so worried that he'd never find Master Scorpius Malfoy in all the bustle, he almost overlooked the little figure in the green hat and duffel coat, carefully examining the merchandise on one of the stalls._

_“Master Scorpius Malfoy!” said Tinker, rushing to his tiny master's side._

 _Master Scorpius Malfoy was carrying a brown, dragon hide bag, and Tinker wondered whether—if it hadn't been for Master Scorpius Malfoy's bushy, platinum hair and Tinker's big ears—people might have mistaken them for twins._

_“Hello, Tinker,” said Master Scorpius Malfoy, with a smile so bright you'd have thought that butter wouldn't melt (as Mrs Draco often said), though Tinker wasn't sure what connection there could possibly be between butter and naughti—between butter and high spirits. “I'm buying Christmas presents! Look!”_

_Master Scorpius Malfoy opened his dragon hide bag. “_ This _,” he said, showing Tinker a tall, crystal bottle, “is a special hair potion for Mummy, and_ these _”—he showed Tinker a box of sweeties—“are Firewhisky Jellies for Daddy.”_

_Tinker had to admit that the gifts were very thoughtful, especially the jellies, which combined two of Mister Draco's favourite things..._

_“Now I need to find a present for Uncle Harry,” said Master Scorpius Malfoy._

_..._

_Tinker followed Master Scorpius Malfoy round the stalls, still hoping to get his tiny master back to Malfoy Manor before Mrs Draco found out that her son was missing._

_Tinker tried_ suggesting _._

 _Tinker tried_ insisting _._

 _Tinker tried_ bribing with ice-cream _._

 _But nothing worked, and it was only_ after _Master Scorpius Malfoy had purchased a special cloth, saturated with a patented Spectacle Cleaning Potion, for Mr Harry Potter, and an official Chudley Cannons cocoa mug, showing 'Recent Goalkeeping Highlights'—“See,” said the stallholder, pouring water into the mug and putting his hand beneath, “it's like a sieve”—for Mr Ronald Weasley, and_ then _had taken Tinker’s bribe and gone into Florio’s Ice-cream Parlour for a bowl of Christmas pudding ice-cream (a lot of which had ended up on Master Scorpius Malfoy's face, and even more of which, inexplicably, had landed on Tinker's duffel coat), that Master Scorpius Malfoy agreed to go home._

_Back at the broom-rack, Tinker was so busy coaxing Mister Draco's Firebolt Excelsior out of its slot, he didn’t notice what was happening behind him, until a cry of dismay from his tiny master drew his attention, and he turned to see Master Scorpius Malfoy hanging upside-down from his miniature broom, which was bouncing him up and down like a bully shaking its victim..._

_It seemed that Master Scorpius Malfoy was no better with a broom than Tinker. For some reason, that made Tinker feel a bit better._

_And quite a bit worse._

_Tinker gave Master Scorpius Malfoy's broom a full house-elf's _Hard Frown_._

_No effect._

_“You have to order it to come down, Master Scorpius Malfoy,” said Tinker, hopefully._

_Master Scorpius Malfoy tried—and Tinker was sure he heard some echoes of Mr Lucius Malfoy (addressing a roomful of Muggle relations-by-marriage) in his tone—but his little voice kept wavering and his orders fell on deaf—on a deaf broom. (A broom that just kept bucking and bobbing, and leaping higher and higher)._

_“Hmm,” said Tinker, opening his Bag of Useful Things and rummaging through its contents until something silver and sparkly caught his eye._

_It was his newest Useful Thing._

_Perfect!_

_Tinker drew the length of tinsel out of the bag and, holding most of it neatly coiled in his left hand, he deftly tied a loop in the other end, then whirled it around his head, and..._

_“_ Prehenso! _” he cried._

_The loop shot out, slipping itself neatly over the handle of the broom and winding itself round and round Master Scorpius Malfoy, binding him safely to the handle until, in his green duffel coat and hat, trimmed from head to foot with silver tinsel, Master Scorpius Malfoy looked like a little blond Christmas Tree._

_“_ Reversio! _” said Tinker, and the tinsel slowly rolled the broom over, until Master Scorpius Malfoy was sitting on top._

_Then, hand over hand, Tinker hauled the broom and its rider within arm’s reach._

…

“ _I'll_ check on him,” said Draco.

He climbed out of bed and, with surprising energy for a man whose vigorous love-making had already driven his wife almost out of her mind _twice_ , he crossed the room. 

Smiling, Hermione lay back and, languidly stroking herself, watched him remove the Sealing Charm from Scorpius's bedroom door, open it, and peep inside.

 _Mmmmmm_ , she thought.

“Still sleeping,” Draco announced—then turned and smiled at her, as if to say: _See how good my son is?_ “I can hear him snoring.”

He closed the door and re-sealed it. “Now where were we?”

Watching him come back to her, still as lean and muscular as he'd been the day they married, Hermione decided that the front view of her husband was even nicer than the rear, especially when the most eye-catching part of him was reaching out to her, just asking to be fondled.

“You already owe me Ten Galleons,” said Draco, putting his hands on his hips, and—head tilted back—letting her take hold of him. “Fancy losing another five?”

“How about... One Galleon for every minute you can hold out?” Hermione replied, huskily. He was already rock hard, slippery with her juices and his own come, and she was confident that, with her hands and her mouth, she could quickly undo him again.

“Oh, fuck...” said Draco.

It seemed his body agreed with her.

…

_Safely back home, and having bumped his head against the wall a few times as a precaution, Tinker locked Master Scorpius Malfoy in the Small Sitting Room, still safely tied to his miniature broom, then—holding Mister Draco's broom in a death-grip—he raced to check with Matty whether Mrs Draco had noticed that Master Scorpius Malfoy was missing._

 _“Matty thinks Mr and Mrs Draco is having a lie in,” said Matty._

_Quickly, Tinker put Mister Draco’s broom back in its box and the box back on the top shelf of the broom cupboard, then rushed back to the Small Sitting Room to find Master Scorpius Malfoy still zooming round and round the furniture, laughing excitedly now as the broom bucked and rolled and tried to pitch him off but Tinker’s magic kept him safely_ on _._

_There wasn't much time!_

_Tinker took a deep breath and, snatching at the trailing end of the tinsel as the broom sailed over him, he caught it after only three attempts, amidst peals of laughter from Master Scorpius Malfoy._

_Feet spread and legs braced, Tinker hauled it in._

_“Wriggle out of the tinsel, Master Scorpius Malfoy,” he said, urgently._

_Fortunately, Master Scorpius Malfoy thought that 'wriggling' was great fun._

 _Unfortunately, Master Scorpius Malfoy seemed to have some difficulty understanding the 'out' part._

_Eventually, Tinker managed to detach Master Scorpius Malfoy from the broom and, together, they wrestled it, still partially restrained with tufts of tinsel, into the wrapping paper Tinker had reassembled, and sealed it with magic._

_Good as new!_

_Tinker sat back on his heels. He was beginning to think that everything—_

_“_ Scorpio! I hope you're nowhere near those presents! _”_

_Oh, no! Mrs Draco was approaching the door!_

_Tinker took a hasty look round the Small Sitting Room. Everything seemed to be ship-shape and Bristol fash—_

_Oh-oh!_

_Tinker opened his Bag of Useful Things, pulled out a flannel—“Aguamenti!”—and gave Master Scorpius Malfoy's little round face an expert wipe, quickly removing the smear of soot from his forehead, the dab of jam from his nose, and the caked-on Christmas pudding ice-cream from his chin._

_Tinker surveyed the results..._

_Perf—_

_“A-choo,” said Master Scorpius Malfoy. “A-a-a-CHOO!”_

_Tinker made a mental note to add a bottle of Cold-Gone Potion to his Bag of Useful Things._

…

**Christmas Morning**

“Your son's up,” said Draco.

“Then you'd better get downstairs quickly,” said Hermione, stretching, “or you'll miss the look on his face when he opens that broom you've given him.”

Draco was already half-way through the door. He paused—hand on the door knob—and turned back. “You know about the broom?”

“Of course I know about the broom, Draco! D'you really think you can get something like that past _me_?”

“Hmm,” Draco conceded. Then, “Erm... Are there going to be any—you know—repercussions?” he asked. “Lectures about how Scorpius is far too young, or how a Firebolt Excelsior's far too extravagant—or anything like that?”

“Oh, certainly,” said Hermione, smiling. “First thing tomorrow—unless, that is, you can think of a way to distract me.”

“You've got yourself a date, woman,” said Draco.

…

_Christmas Day really_ was _perfect!_

_Tinker spent most of the morning in the Small Sitting Room, fetching plates of warm mince pies and tankards of hot mulled wine—hot mulled apple juice for Master Scorpius Malfoy—watching Master Scorpius Malfoy open his presents—including an_ almost _-square, wooden toy box from Tinker—and watching Mister Draco teach Master Scorpius Malfoy how to control a broom—“Remember you have to be_ firm _with it, Scorp!”_

_Master Scorpius Malfoy soon got the hang of flying, and zoomed round and round and round the room, until Mrs Draco said they'd had enough of it now._

_Then Tinker opened his own presents: a soft, warm blanket from Mrs Draco, a Muggle ruler and set-square from Mister Draco, and a bottle of something called Chillax Potion from Master Scorpius Malfoy, who also gave Tinker a Christmas card with a slightly wonky picture of Tinker himself on the front, drawn in thick black outline, standing in a snowy landscape made from cotton wool and silver glitter._

_And_ that _was Tinker's favourite present of all, because Tinker recognised a Labour of Love when he was given one._


End file.
